Saint Clare, the Patron Saint of Television floats down beside me on my futon. She turns, takes my hand in her tiny grip and says, "You've been working very hard over the past year, pamie. I'm proud of you. I could have given you Titans. I want you to watch this instead."
"Saint Clare, I heard this show is Family Funded," I sneer.
"Yes, but they didn't really get to destroy the pilot. I'm sure they won't start making script changes until at least the third episode."
Welcome to Gilmore Girls.
The La's' "There She Goes" plays in the background. Pan down to an American flag over an All-American street. I give Saint Clare the stink-eye. She puts one finger over her lips and smiles. She kicks her tiny feet up and rests them on my remote control. Some kid picks up his skateboard and watches both ways before he crosses the street. Locals are dressed in winter clothing. Pan over to a sign that reads, "Stars Hollow Founded *1779*." We follow a woman's back as she walks into a diner. She takes off her coat and drops it on the table and turns into a close-up as we watch her clutch her coffee cup to her chest. Behind the diner counter, a man pours a cup of coffee. The woman smiles and wiggles up to the counter. He sees her and starts to walk away. She pouts and says, "Please, Luke. Please, please, PLEASE." He asks how many cups she's had today. She says she hasn't had one...after the five she already had. She says his coffee is better. "You have a problem," he says to her. "Yes, I do," she agrees as she holds out her cup. He takes the cup and fills it, while calling her "Junkie." She smiles and calls him an angel. She tells him that he has "wings, baby," and walks away yanking off her cap. A phone call takes him away.
As the woman sips her coffee, another man at the bar -- I'll just call him Flannel because that's the most obvious thing he's wearing -- starts walking over to her. "You make that look really good," he says. Ew. She says it's the best coffee in town. He says he's just passing through on his way to Hartford. She calls him "a regular Jack Kerouac." "Yeah," he smiles and nods, because he thinks he is. The woman (I've waited long enough for us to learn her name. It's Lorelai.) rolls her eyes as he asks if he can sit down. She tells him she's meeting someone. He sits down and introduces himself as Joey. "Okay!" Lorelai smiles. "What, you don't have a name?" he asks her. She says she does, but she's really meeting someone. He says then he should go, calls her "Mystery Woman" and walks away. She says to her cup that she likes that name. I'd like it too; it's easier to spell.